Exposed (11 page)

He wasn’t even sure when his feelings for her had started to change. A couple months after he’d broken up with Trina, maybe. All he knew was, they were getting stronger and he couldn’t shut them off. And he wasn’t a saint.

But none of that mattered because as tempting as Carmela was, she was absolutely forbidden to him. Guys didn’t do their best friend’s sister. Said so right there in the first rule of the best friend handbook. A rule he wished he’d paid attention to earlier.

Mama Cruz stepped out onto the deck from the kitchen. Her gaze landed on him and Carmela, a flash of surprise flitting across her face when she saw her daughter perched atop his lap before she masked it and smiled at him. “Sawyer, did you get enough of my brownies?”

“I was thinking of having one more,” he said, trying and failing to ignore how close Carmela still was. Mama Cruz was sharp as hell, but thankfully she didn’t seem to pick up on the undercurrent simmering between him and Carmela. At least, not that he could tell. He hoped. “They’re awesome.”

“I thought you might. Here.” She handed him a foil-wrapped package and gave him a wink. “I made you an extra batch to take with you, and wrapped up the leftover bread pudding.” Then she aimed a hard look at her daughter. “Carmela, stop monopolizing him and let him unwind with his friends. I need a hand with the cleanup.”

“I’ll help,” he blurted, glad for an excuse to get up and put some space between them.

Mama Cruz smiled at him. “Thanks, sweetie.”

Man, he loved it when she called him that. Maybe it was because his mom had taken off when he was three and left him and his dad behind for greener pastures—but he just adored the woman, would do anything for her.

Including never acting on his feelings for her daughter.

Carmela huffed out a laugh. “All right, all right,” she grumbled. When Mama Cruz headed down the steps with another plate of brownies for the others, Carmela met his gaze once more. “So, are you going to have any more free time while you’re down here?”

Yep. Trouble with a capital T. “Not sure. Just depends how things go.” As in, if they got the intel they needed to go execute the standing warrant for Alvarez or any one of Fuentes’s cronies.

“You still owe me that two-stepping lesson you promised,” she reminded him.

Shit, he had promised her, hadn’t he? Maybe he was a closet masochist and just hadn’t realized it before. “Right.”

She set a hand on his shoulder and pushed herself up. His muscles automatically tensed and he shot out a hand to steady her, his fingers wrapping around the curve of her waist. He bit back a groan at the feel of her, her flesh warm and resilient through the material of the dress she wore.

“Hey, man. You ready to go?”

Sawyer swung his head around as Blackwell came up the wooden steps onto the deck, Evers and Bauer right behind him. “Sure.” He stood, put a foot or two of distance between him and Carmela as he faced her once more. “Was good to see you.”

She gave him a soft smile, all traces of innuendo gone. “You too. If you have some time while you’re here, call me.”

“I will.” He wouldn’t though. And if he was smart, he’d avoid her at all costs until he was safely back in Quantico.

****

Bautista watched from the end of the street as Marisol exited the Cruz’s house. He’d left for a while after she’d gone to the barbecue and come back after his phone call to Perez was done. The next target was confirmed. Bautista was going in tomorrow night to take care of it.

He’d been waiting here for the past hour, waiting for Marisol to come out because he liked to study the people on his list. He’d been thinking a lot about Julia, and what she’d said, had made up his mind to ask her out, when Marisol walked out.

And then Ethan Cruz appeared and followed her out onto the sidewalk.

He mentally cursed and tugged the brim of his ball cap lower on his forehead. He was parked at the far end of the street in the shade of a big palm tree, so neither of them could see his face from that distance.

Marisol didn’t glance his way but Ethan did, his gaze stopping on the Lexus before scanning the rest of the street. It only confirmed what he already knew about the guy, that he’d served in the Corps with MARSOC and now worked for the FBI.

As a kid and teenager, Ethan had run with a rough crowd. Back then it had been all about street cred and reputation in their neighborhood. They hadn’t hung around together or anything, and Bautista sure as hell hadn’t been popular enough to run with Ethan’s crowd. Marisol had always been kind to him though. It was
still
about reputation, but the stakes for both him and Ethan had changed. Now it was a matter of life and death.

Seeing them together put him in a uniquely sticky situation. A warning tingle in his gut told him a confrontation was inevitable. Only Bautista didn’t have to play by the same rules as Ethan did.

He knew Marisol was working on the Fuentes case. She’d been right that he’d changed a lot since she’d last seen him. In more ways than she could possibly imagine. He wasn’t the same person she’d known back then, not in name or in spirit.

He also knew Ethan was no ordinary Fed. Upon doing some research, he’d learned that the HRT was in town on a joint-training exercise with the DEA. Which was just a cover story for what was really going on.

The truth was the HRT was in town working with the FAST team, waiting to take down Alvarez. While Bautista wouldn’t mind the help in eliminating that particular target, it put him in direct conflict with Ethan. And now maybe Marisol too, because of him.

Bautista watched them walk up the sidewalk to the big black Ford pickup parked at the curb. Ethan stopped as he let her in to scan the road again, ever vigilant. Not an easy man to sneak up on.

This was a complication he hadn’t planned on, but one he needed to plan for. The time may come when he was forced into the position of having to kill one or both of them.

He wouldn’t enjoy doing it, especially in Marisol’s case, but he’d do whatever was necessary to protect himself. He’d never killed a woman before, let alone someone he knew and liked, so he would only do it as a last resort.

The conflict and frustration brewing inside him continued to grow by the second.

She didn’t deserve to die. Did she have any idea what she’d gotten herself into in this case? What she was setting herself up for?

He’d warned her once already to stay out of it and he hoped she was smart enough to heed it. She wasn’t irreplaceable to the U.S. Attorney’s Office or the case. Her death would merely be a hindrance, slow the trial down a little. It wouldn’t stop anything, except maybe to scare away some key witnesses willing to testify. If someone like Marisol wasn’t safe, then the criminals being brought to testify would be spooked about their own security.

Not that Bautista gave a rat’s ass about Fuentes or the case in general. He had to watch Marisol carefully from here on out though. Because she was fucking smart, and had a reputation of being a bulldog when it came to following up a lead. If she kept digging long enough and somehow was able to figure out who he really was…

He’d have no choice.

Don’t force my hand, Marisol.

He waited until the truck turned the corner at the far end of the block. Then he stayed another few minutes to make sure Ethan didn’t double back. When he didn’t, Bautista turned the ignition and drove away in the opposite direction. He had more investigative work to do in the coming hours and another, more severe warning to deliver tomorrow night.

Chapter Eight

The sun had almost set by the time Ethan pulled up to the curb a half block away from Marisol’s friend’s house in a quiet Coral Gables neighborhood. He’d driven her to where she’d parked her rental a block from her mom’s place, then followed her here.

He watched while she pulled into the garage and closed the door without exiting her vehicle, as he’d told her to before leaving. He’d been vigilant on his way over and hadn’t noticed anyone tailing them. It was still possible someone could have though, and he wasn’t taking chances with her safety.

Shutting the truck door, he rounded the hood and started up the sidewalk, casting a covert look around. A few people were out walking their dog and a couple of kids were playing in a sprinkler on the front lawn of their house across from where Marisol was staying.

She opened the side garage door for him, her expression composed, a little remote. It annoyed him that she kept putting up that barrier between them.

Her purse strap was draped over one shoulder, the keys dangling from her hand. “I assume no one followed us?” Her tone was even, but he sensed a slight sarcastic edge to it. She was the very definition of forbidden temptation standing there in that sexy dress and heels.

It made him want to slide a hand into her hair and twist her face up to his so he could kiss her. Tease her, taste her until she melted and trembled against him.

He ignored the tone, not wanting to get into an argument with her. Right now his priority was making sure she was settled and safe. “As far as I can tell, no.”

She let out a deep breath. “You don’t think this is overkill? I’m already staying here as a precaution while Lindsay’s away and I’ve agreed to keep a low profile from here on out.”

“Nope, not even a little.” He strode past her toward the door that led inside. A whiff of her warm, clean scent reached him. “Did you already disable the alarm?”

“Yes.” She followed him, her high heels clicking on the concrete floor.

Since they made her legs look insanely sexy, it was probably better that he couldn’t see them right now. Because when he did, all he could think about was sliding his hands up their bare length, pushing that dress up to see what she had on beneath it. And then imagine those gorgeous legs wrapped around his shoulders as he teased the soft flesh between them with his mouth.

“Wait here a minute.” He said it gently but she still folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Just until I can check everything out.”

She relented with a nod. “Be my guest.”

He entered into the kitchen and swept the downstairs. It consisted of the living room, a small den and a powder room near the front door. All the blinds were closed and the air conditioning was on. Upstairs he checked the master suite, guest room and guest bath before coming back down.

Marisol was waiting for him where he’d left her in the garage. She looked a bit tired now, her guard dropping slightly to reveal the sweet, soft woman beneath it. It made the urge to kiss her even stronger.

“All clear?” she murmured.

His fingers itched to wind into the thick fall of her hair, tilt her head back as he leaned in to kiss her. “Yep. Do you keep the blinds closed all the time and the windows locked?”

“Since I got here yesterday, yes.”

Her cool expression told him she was placating him but he didn’t care. “I’ll go check the yard.” He also wanted to get the lay of the land, make note of any blatant security lapses he could correct while here.

“Go ahead.” She set her purse down on the kitchen island and headed for the fridge, her hips swaying in an enticing way and the muscles in her calves defined by the high heels.

God.

Ethan let himself out the sliding glass door onto the back patio. Immediately two security lights attached to the side of the house came on. All the windows were closed. The small yard was surrounded by an eight-foot tall privacy fence. He checked around both sides of the house too, for good measure. Everything looked secure.

He let himself back into the kitchen, locked the sliders and pulled the blinds. Marisol was seated at a bar stool at the island, sipping a sparkling water. “Looks good,” he told her, trying to ignore the way her full lower lip shone with moisture as she lowered the bottle. He wanted to lick it away, steal inside to taste her.

“I’m glad.” She held up her bottle, raised an eyebrow. “Want one?”

It would give him an excuse to stay for a little while longer. “Sure, thanks.”

She got up and brought him one, sitting back on the bar stool while he stood and leaned a forearm on the opposite side of the island.

“How’s the case going?”

“Good. Lots of research to do still and plenty of people to interview. I see Fuentes tomorrow.”

Shit, he hated the thought of her being in the same room as that twisted fuck, but he kept that to himself and nodded as he took a sip of the water he didn’t really want. He hated sparkling water. Water should be flat, not fizzy. It was wrong. If he wanted something carbonated he’d drink either beer or soda. He made himself take another sip.

“Still trying to set up a deal he’ll bite at. If we sweeten it enough, he might give us information on his lieutenants. Provided he even knows where they are, and who their enforcers are.”

He made a sound of agreement, congratulating himself on how calm he appeared when in reality he rebelled at the very idea of her working with Fuentes. He respected the hell out of what she did though. She was smart and capable, apparently a damn good lawyer if she’d already made Assistant U.S. Attorney.

Didn’t mean he had to like her taking the risks that came with the territory, however.

She cast him a look from beneath her lashes, then smiled a little. “Your mom really seemed to enjoy having your teammates there tonight.”

“Yeah, she’s been wanting to meet them all for a long time.”

“It’s sweet how she dotes on your friend Sawyer. She’s definitely got a soft spot for him.”

Ethan grunted. “I think she’d like to trade him for me sometimes,” he said wryly. “But nah, it’s all good. He grew up with a single dad, so he loves it that my mom makes a fuss over him.”

Her smile widened. “That’s nice to hear. And if he sticks around long enough, sooner or later he’ll start getting the little digs she always gives you and Carm about settling down and giving her nineteen grandkids.”

Ethan made a face. “God, I hope so. She’s relentless.”

Marisol laughed softly, the husky sound revving his already overactive hormones. “Yeah, I know how that works.” She fiddled with the bottle for a moment, her fingers stroking the glass, and he imagined them stroking over a certain portion of his anatomy that was currently making his jeans uncomfortably tight. “You still try to convince her to move every now and again?”